


A Face from the Past

by Quipxotic



Series: Family Matters [2]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Episode: s19e03 Last Man Out, Gap Filler, Gen, Moving On, Spoilers, Talking, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quipxotic/pseuds/Quipxotic
Summary: It was a normal crime scene, just like any of the hundreds John Barnaby had visited over his career, but that was before a familiar face made an appearance.
Relationships: Ben Jones & Jamie Winter, Ben Jones/Kate Wilding, John Barnaby & Ben Jones, John Barnaby & Jamie Winter, John Barnaby/Sarah Barnaby, Kam Karimore/Jamie Winter, Sarah Barnaby & Ben Jones
Series: Family Matters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945675
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. Jack Morris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving this tagged as Gen despite the discussion of a romantic relationship at the end and some flirting, since neither have much bearing on the story.

When Winter didn’t immediately move away to begin the interviews, John glanced at him “Now would be good.”

Although he hadn’t known his sergeant long, John could tell by the tightness around Winter’s mouth and eyes that he wasn’t happy. To the younger man’s credit, he tried to not let it show. His “Yes sir” was crisp and professional, and with one last annoyed glance at Jack Morris, Winter finally did as he was told. 

For his part, Morris was also trying to appear professional, helpful even, but a keen observer could detect the laughter in his eyes and the smirk threatening the corners of his mouth. These reactions were even easier to spot for someone who knew his face as well as John Barnaby knew it. “Would you like to come with me, sir,” he asked lightly, waiting for the other man to nod before walking towards his car. 

John unlocked the doors and got into the driver’s seat. “Get in.”

Morris opened the other door, but paused to look back at the cricket grounds and the mixture of police personnel, witnesses, and curious onlookers who were milling around the area. “Won’t this look a bit suspicious?”

“I don’t think you want to have this conversation here,” John glared at him pointedly, “do you…Jack?”

Morris got into the car, the smirk he’d been resisting finally settling on his face. “I guess not.” 

They drove in silence for a while. John was dying to pepper him with questions or demand answers, but suspected if he pushed he’d get nothing. He also needed to sort through his conflicting emotions before anything else. Because, although John couldn’t help being glad to see the other man, he was also extremely annoyed.

It was Morris who finally broke the silence. “Winter, huh?” He smiled, suddenly all cheerful friendliness. “He seems eager, if a bit young. What happened to Charlie?”

“On a year-long training course for _undercover work_.” Jack picked up on the extra emphasis and shifted uncomfortably. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Jones?”

“It’s complicated, sir,” Ben Jones sighed, finally letting the Jack Morris persona drop. 

“I bet it is.” John parked the car at the edge of a field and weighed what line of questioning was most likely to get him the answers he needed. 

Ben cleared his throat. “This is different.”

“Just a little.” After a moment, John asked the least important question on his mind, but one that was bothering him nonetheless. “Jack Morris?”

Jones smiled sheepishly. “My old games master at school, taught me cricket.” He glanced at John with that same amused look in his eyes that he’d had at the crime scene. For a moment it was as if no time had passed and he was still the same old familiar, faithful DS Jones. 

But things had changed and John didn’t like being kept in the dark, even by old friends. Time to get down to business. “When you found Mr. Henderson, did you touch anything?”

“I’m sure you know me better than that,” Ben scoffed.

“I thought I did… _Mr. Morris_.” With that he opened the car door and stepped outside, but he still caught the look of resignation on Ben’s face. Interesting, John thought and filed the reaction away as something to pursue later.

Jones’s face was pleasantly bland once he too stepped out of the car and moved to stand across from John. “New interview room,” he asked lightly, surveying the fields and forest surrounding them, “I like it.”

“Would you prefer to go to the station?” 

This time Jones handled the intimation smoothly. “You know I’m not involved,” he replied in an easy tone. “All I did was find the body.” 

A more direct approach perhaps? “Why are you here, Jones?”

“Tricky question.” Ben tilted his head. “And you know I’d tell you if I could.”

John gave him a tight smile. “You turn up in Midsomer and you don’t think to get in contact?” 

Jones ducked slightly and shifted his weight, both sure signs of his discomfort. Inwardly, John smiled, his suspicions confirmed. 

“It’s awkward,” Ben said at last.

“Because you’re working.” 

“All I’m doing is renting a room off a distant family friend.”

“Whatever it is you’re really up to it can’t get in the way of my investigation.” 

Ben, clearly back in control of his emotions, smiled innocently as he shook his head. “I’m just here to take in some cricket, hopefully get a game if I can-“

It was so unconvincing a lie that John actually smiled this time. “We both know you’re here for more than that.” His tone shifted subtly to the one he used back when he gave Ben orders on a regular basis. “But this murder takes priority at all times and if you come across anything connected to it, you have to tell me.” 

Ben’s eyes darted to the left and he bounced on his heels, clearly weighing his options and just as obviously uncomfortable. Finally, Jones frowned and nodded. “Sure,” he replied quietly.

Barnaby longed to push for more, but he let it go. As it was, he’d learned a lot. Whatever was going on, Ben had been ordered not to talk about it to anyone; that was pretty standard for undercover work, but there was more to it than that. Barnaby wasn’t a betting man, as a rule, but he would bet money Jones had been ordered not to tell him specifically about his work, which meant whoever had assigned Jones knew not only the DI’s history in Midsomer but also his close connection with Barnaby. 

John drove them back to the crime scene without further comment. Jones was also silent during the trip, exiting the car without a word once they’d arrived. 

“Thank you Mr. Morris,” John called after him, causing Ben to pause, “I’m sure we’ll be in contact if we have further questions.” Jones held up a hand in acknowledgement and continued walking. 

Barnaby wasn’t a betting man, but there was one other thing he was sure of: whatever was going on, Ben Jones didn’t like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ficlet last month in the midst of my first marathon of _Midsomer Murders_ , but I never posted it for a couple of reasons: a) it repeated an awful lot of the dialog of the episode, which made me wonder if there was even a point to publishing it; and b) I started thinking about writing something bigger and a bit meater.
> 
> Anyway, I shelved this for a few weeks and came back to it just now. This time I'm posting it, warts and all.


	2. Permission

Ben glanced down at his phone and winced at the incoming number. He briefly considered ducking the call, but knew that wouldn’t stop them. Hurrying back up the stairs to his room, he made sure the door was closed and locked behind him before answering. “Yes?”

“Jones! What the hell is going on?” DCI Dinah Ford had the voice of a four pack-a-day smoker and the no-nonsense attitude of a lifelong copper. “You were told not to get your friends involved with this case. I thought you understood that.”

“The captain of our team was killed after the match, ma’am, and I found the body.” Ben took a deep, calming breath. Losing his temper with the DCI wouldn’t help the situation, although he was often sorely tempted. “It would’ve looked suspicious if I’d refused to talk with them or if I hadn’t called in the death at all. What if I’d already been spotted with the body?” He paced the floor slowly. “It wouldn’t do our investigations any good if I’m held under suspicion of murder.”

Ford laughed wryly. “I don’t know, maybe it would speed things up a bit.” Before Jones could get over his affronted surprise enough to counter her insinuation, she continued, all business once again. “Is the death connected?”

“I don’t think so, at least not so far. But it would help if I could talk with Causton CID to make sure.”

“Is your cover intact?”

“As far as I know. DCI Barnaby recognized me, of course, and he’s not happy about not knowing why I’m here, but he’s keeping my secret for now.“

“Then he can keep on keeping it.”

“Ma’am-“

“Jones, listen here - I’ve known John Barnaby longer than you have-” 

Jones made a face at that. Longer didn’t mean better. 

“-and, while the man is an excellent detective, he’s also a right pain in the arse.”

Ben shrugged. He couldn’t really argue with that. 

“If he knows what you’re working on, he’ll insist on sticking his nose in. And the more people who know about this, the more at risk the whole operation will be.”

“DCI Barnaby is trustworthy, ma’am. If we ask him to keep this quiet, he will.”

“And what about his sergeant, hmmm? The coroner? SOCO and the whole parade of constables, sergeants, and detectives out there?” Her voice became smooth and knowing. “I’ve heard you say, more than once, that nothing stays secret in Midsomer for long.” 

“That’s not fair,” Jones exclaimed in exasperation. “You’re taking that completely out of context.” Remembering himself, he added “Ma’am” after a moment. 

“Am I?” Ford chuckled again. “Too bad. The answer is ‘no,’ DI Jones, you do not have permission to read anyone in Causton CID or anywhere else in Midsomer into your assignment. I don’t care if it’s John Barnaby or your grandmother, no one is to know, understand?” 

“Ma’am.” 

“Repeat it so I’m sure we’re clear.”

Ben gritted his teeth. “I won’t tell anyone, ma’am.”

“Good. As you were, Jones.” And with that, she hung up. 

Ben pocketed his phone with a groan. “Infuriating woman,” he complained out loud to no one. The problem was, Ford was right about a few things. The more people who knew, the more they risked the investigation being exposed and he’d come too far to risk that now. 

He’d just made it back downstairs when there was a knock on the front doors. “I’ll get it,” he called to Germaine at he walked through the main hall. Unlocking the latch, he pulled open the doors and stared. 

Outside, John Barnaby and Jamie Winter stood staring back at him. 

Barnaby broke the silence first. “Mr. Morris,” he said awkwardly.

“Hello,” Ben replied, glancing between them and painfully aware of how suspicious this situation looked, “…again.” Oh hell, he thought, best stick to the plan in spite of appearances. He smiled weakly. “What can I help with this time?”


	3. Break-In

Winter got to the house not long after the forensic team began their work. He nodded to one of the uniformed officers as he stepped inside. “What have we got, PC Cole?”

“Burglary, Sarge. The homeowner, one Melody Henderson, and a friend interrupted whoever it was and they fled.”

“On foot?”

PC Samantha Cole shook her head. “Apparently they had a car stashed nearby.”

“Did anyone see it?”

“No sir, they just heard it speeding off.”

So we don’t know if it’s one person working alone or someone with a getaway driver, Jamie mused to himself. Finally he nodded. “Where’s Mrs. Henderson?” 

“In the study.” She pointed toward a door and Jamie headed that direction. “Her friend’s with her, sir,” Cole called after him.

Winter paused. “And the friend’s name is?”

She checked her notes. “Jack Morris.”

Winter frowned. Everywhere he went today Jack Morris was already there. Jamie didn’t like it and he really didn’t like his boss’s lack of interest in the nearly unbelievable coincidence. Well, John Barnaby wasn’t here right now, was he? “Separate them,” he ordered tersely, “but do it casually, try not to raise suspicions. Where was the intruder when they first came in?” 

“Upstairs.” PC Cole pointed again. “First bedroom on the right.”

“Okay, I’ll start there. Tell Mrs. Henderson I’ll be with her in a moment.” Changing directions, he hurried upstairs. There wasn’t much to see. The bedside tables had clearly been rifled through, some of their contents scattered across the floor and bed, but most of it seemed to be in place still. After a quick word with a few members of Kam’s SOCO team, he went back downstairs. 

Sam Cole was still on duty at the front door. As he passed, she nodded again toward the study. “Mrs. Henderson’s still there, Sarge.”

“Where did you put Morris?”

“In the kitchen.”

Away from all the sharp objects, I hope. Out loud, he whispered a quick “Thanks Cole” before finally stepping into the study. Clearly the intruder had visited this room as well, although it was in far more disarray than the bedroom. The desk drawers and been dumped out into small piles and several books lay scattered around. Jamie turned his attention to the waiting homeowner who sat hunched in on herself on a nearby loveseat. He gave her a warm, reassuring smile and sat on a chair opposite her. “Mrs. Henderson, how are you holding up?”

She sighed, her hands tightly clutched in her lap. “A little wobbly, I’m afraid. It’s just been…” Her eyes welled up.

“It’s a lot to take in,” he offered and she nodded silently, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief that had been hidden in one of her fists. “Have you had break-ins before?”

“Never. We’ve lived a very quiet, normal life here. Nothing like this has ever happened before.” 

“What time did you get here?”

“Around three, I suppose? I didn’t check and today has been pretty much a blur.”

“I’m sure.” He paused. “Was Mr. Morris with you or did he arrive later?”

“Jack caught up with me outside, he wanted to give his condolences. It was very kind of him,” she smiled, “but then that’s Jack. Always thinking of others.”

Yes, an altruist that one is, I’m sure. “Then what,” Jamie asked.

“We heard noises inside, so we came in together. Jack followed the sounds upstairs-“

“Did he call out first?”

Melody Henderson blinked at the interruption. “Yes, I think so, but no one answered. Then once Jack got to the bedroom someone pushed past him and jumped down the stairs.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Jumped?”

“Yes, then they turned over a cabinet to block the door. We tried to follow but,” she shrugged, “they were gone before we could catch up.” 

“Okay.” He patted her hand lightly. “Hang in there, Mrs. Henderson. We’ll leave as soon as possible so you can have some quiet. Would you like me to leave a constable here-“

“No, I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and stood. “Let me know if you change your mind.” She mumbled an acknowledgment but was clearly barely paying attention. Poor woman, he thought as he turned to leave, losing her husband and then having to deal with all this only hours later. He stepped through to the kitchen and the moment he caught sight of Jack Morris, Jamie’s eyes narrowed. 

Morris was lounging against the kitchen counter, looking far too relaxed and at home for someone who had just had a brush with a potential murderer. Winter approached him slowly, studying everything about the man. He hadn’t made it far into the room before Morris turned to face him. 

“DS Winter, wasn’t it?”

Jamie nodded. He stopped close to the other man and folded his arms across his chest. “Is there anywhere I won’t find you in Lower Pampling,” he asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice.

If Morris noticed, he made no comment. “How’s Melody?”

Winter barely resisted rolling his eyes. Her husband’s body was hardly cold and here this lowlife was trying to weasel his way in. “ _Mrs. Henderson_ is still pretty shaken up. Did she mention to you that anything had been taken?”

“She had a look around, but there’s nothing missing.”

Jamie nodded again and began to pace slowly. “You must be pretty…ummm…fit playing cricket.” He glanced back to find Morris studying him. 

“I work at it.”

On the surface it was a fairly modest, nonchalant reply, but Jamie detected something more there. This was an area Jack Morris had some degree of pride in, which made it the perfect place for a few verbal punches, just to see what turned up. Jamie smiled mockingly. “Not enough to catch the thief, though.”

Morris’s eyes narrowed and he paused, as if trying to collect himself. “Not for want of trying,” he said with steely coldness. 

Got you, Jamie thought, finally there’s a bit of whoever you really are showing through. “Seems odd,” he countered lightly, resuming his slow pacing.

“Explain odd.”

“Well, you’re probably fitter than the average man or woman,” Jamie huffed a short laugh, “and yet you couldn’t keep up.”

A longer pause, but this time the facade didn’t crack. “Well,” Jack easily matched Winter’s tone, “maybe they play cricket as well?"

“Maybe.” Time for a change in tactics. “How well did you know Leo Henderson?”

Morris shook his head, straightening slightly. “How is that relevant?”

“I’m curious.”

There was a tightness in Jack’s bearing now, even though he was still slumped casually against the counter. “I’ve already discussed this.”

“Not with me.”

A smile tweaked at the corners of Morris’s mouth at Jamie’s quick, but firm reply. The DS also detected a hint of grudging respect in the other man’s eyes. “I’ve been here a couple of months. I got to know him pretty well. He’s a great captain and a great batsman.”

Which was pretty much a non-answer, but it might be all he got this time around.“Okay, well, if anything else springs to mind-“

Jack shook his head, eyebrows uplifted in mock regretfulness. “It won’t.”

He’s an arrogant bastard, Winter thought, staring the other man down, but we’ll get him if he’s up to something. “Okay,” he conceded at last. Turning to go, he paused. “You’re not planning on leaving the area any time soon, are you Mr. Morris?”

“Why?” Another glimmer of a smile, quickly hidden. “Am I a suspect?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jamie replied, “but I like to know where my witnesses are, in case I have more questions for them.”

“I have matches to play, DS Winter,” Jack replied, “matches I’m hoping we can still win, even though it’ll be a struggle without Leo. So don’t worry, detective, I’m not going anywhere.”


	4. Smoke and Flame

DCI Barnaby was hunched over his desk when Jamie returned to Causton CID. “You’ll never guess who I ran into, sir.”

Barnaby hummed distractedly. “Probably not. Why don’t you tell me instead?”

“Jack Morris.” 

John grew very still at the mention of the name. “Really,” he asked thinly, his eyes fixed on his computer as he struggled to control his expression. What was Jones playing at?

Fortunately for him, Winter didn’t notice his superior’s discomfort. He made a beeline for the white board and began adding notes to it. “Morris was at the Henderson’s when it was burgled.” Jamie paused in front of Morris’s photo on the board and tapped it with a finger. “He and Melody Henderson interrupted the culprit.” Turning, he smirked. “He _claims_ he couldn’t catch whoever it was.”

John returned the look with a studied air of disinterest and shrugged. “Maybe he couldn’t?” 

“A fit cricket player like him,” Jamie scoffed and turned back to the board. “I mean, he’s not big but he’s in good shape…for an older guy.” Barnaby hid a smile. He could imagine what Jones's reaction to that comment would be if he were here. “Is it possible? Sure,” Jamie continued, “but it’s not likely.”

John leaned back in his chair and studied his sergeant’s profile. “What do you think then?”

Now it was Winter’s turn to shrug. “He could be an accomplice? Working with whoever killed Leo and broke into his house?”

“Why bother? From all accounts Mr. Morris is a friend of both Hendersons. If he wanted to look for something in their home, all he had to do was visit. Besides,” Barnaby stood, joining Jamie at the board, “you’re assuming the break-in and the death are connected, but we have no evidence of that yet.” 

“It’s a convenient coincidence,” Winter grumbled, “far too convenient, just like Jack Morris showing up at every important location in this case. I don’t like it. It stinks of…something, I just can’t put my finger on what yet.” 

And hopefully you won’t any time soon, John thought. “I don’t like coincidences either,” he conceded, “but sometimes they do happen. Have you checked to see if Kam’s got the autopsy results back,” he asked, pointedly changing the subject. “It would be helpful to confirm we’re actually looking at a murder in this case.” 

Winter looked confused. “Not since earlier today. She probably won’t have anything until tomorrow.”

“Well, drop by and ask anyway.” John returned to his office chair. “And while you’re at it, check in with Tech. See if we know anything more about our threatening emailer.”

“Yes sir.” 

John could feel Winter studying him, but after a few moments Jamie hurried away to do as he’d ordered. Barnaby sighed. Winter was a smart young man - persistent, good at making connections between disparate facts, and he had very good instincts. Distractions like this might keep him off Jones’s scent for a day or two, but it wouldn’t last. “No smoke without fire,” John muttered to himself. He just wished he knew the source of the flames before his eager sergeant discovered them and everyone got burned.


	5. An Unexpected Visitor

Sarah turned the corner and grinned. “Ben! Oh my goodness.” She hurried to hand Betty off to her husband so she could greet Ben Jones properly. John accepted his daughter gladly, giving her a quick kiss and watching his former sergeant out of the corner of his eye. 

“Hi…Sarah-“ Jones worriedly glanced between them and shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Oh you thought you’d surprise me?” Sarah hugged Ben tightly. “And it’s a lovely surprise at that. How good to see you.”

“You too.” Ben hugged her back and for a moment his wariness dropped away. He turned, grinning at their daughter as he gently wiggled her foot. “Hey Betty, you’ve grown.” To Sarah, he asked, “Is that the rabbit I sent her?”

“Yeah, she loves it.” Sarah heaved a long suffering sigh. “She can’t sleep without it.”

“Nice to know her Godfather got something right.”

“I knew you were the man for the job,” Sarah glanced teasingly at her husband, “John suggested some relative I can’t bear.” 

Suddenly the subject of both of their knowing gazes, John carried Betty out of the room. “Time for a nap I think,” he whispered to her, rocking the child gently. “We’ll make it quick, hmmm? I have to rescue your Godfather from your mum, not that I’m sure he deserves it.”

While he got her settled, the conversation carried on in the other room without him. He heard Sarah ask about Ben’s grandmother and Kate, both relatively safe subjects, but he was sure that wouldn’t last. 

“Anyway,” John interjected, stepping back into the room, “back to the topic at hand-“

Sarah ignored him. “You will be staying for lunch?”

Ben grimaced, his shoulders tightening again. “Slightly tricky.”

“Jones will call again,” John interrupted, patting his wife’s back, “I’m sure.”

Ben nodded his agreement and Sarah looked between them, a confused frown on her face. “Well, you can’t be going,” she commented with a hesitant laugh, “you only just got here.”

Jones stepped forward to put a hand on her arm. “Sarah, I don’t want to say this to you of all people,” he looked at her seriously, “but you haven’t seen me.” With a last glance at John, Ben hurried out of the house. John watched him go with a rather silly smile on his face. He was surprised how happy having Jones here made him, despite the circumstances. After all, it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other or talked over the last few years. Still, somehow this felt different, more like the old days. 

Sarah was less amused. She folded her arms and looked at him expectantly. “Well? What’s going on?”

John cleared his throat and walked to the kitchen to begin preparing lunch. “Going on? Not sure what you’re talking about. Just an old friend stopping by-“

“Oh please.” Sarah followed, interjecting herself between him and their refrigerator. “Come on…spill it. Now.”

He held up his hands. “It’s to do with the case I’m working on and I really can’t talk about it yet.”

She let him push gently past her, but she wasn’t giving up. Leaning against the counter top, she studied his face as he worked. “Is this what you were talking about this morning? The thing that came out of nowhere was Ben?” Her eyes narrowed when he didn’t reply. “Is he working undercover again?” John glared at her and she grinned. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything,” he replied primly. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “But you are entirely too smart for your own good.”

Sarah nodded, still grinning. “So I am right.”

John turned, pointing at her with a spoon. “But you can’t say a word to anyone, especially not Kam or Winter. Not until whatever he’s working on is finished, understand?”

Her face fell. “You mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve asked, but he won’t tell me,” John glanced up to see her frown deepening, “which I suspect means he’s been explicitly told not to tell me. He’s probably bending his remit just by coming here to talk to me.” 

She shrugged. “So why did he?”

“Because I’ve got a murder to investigate and I asked him to let me know if he came across anything that might have bearing on that investigation.”

“Couldn’t that put Ben at risk? His cover, I mean?”

“I shouldn’t think so. Jones is very good at what he does.” Smirking, he handed her a plate loaded with food. “After all, he had a very good teacher.” 

She took it, but didn’t return his smile. “I’m serious, John. I mean, this is Ben we’re talking about. If there’s a murderer running around-“

“Then DI Jones is far better equipped to handle them then anyone else in Lower Pampling.” He carried his own plate over to the table and they sat down together. “I’ll keep an eye on Jones, as much as I can without raising suspicions at any rate. But we have to trust he knows what he’s doing.” 

It was easier said than done, but Sarah nodded and seemed somewhat comforted. John wished he could quiet his own worries as easily.


	6. Semifinals

Sarah settled into her seat and scanned the cricket grounds for any sign of Ben. No, not Ben, she corrected herself - Jack Morris. She’d been able to pry that much out of her husband by arguing that not knowing what name Jones was using further endangered his investigations. John had seen through her argument, but he’d given in anyway, as she’d known he would. He might try to hide it, but he was as worried about Ben as she was at the moment. Jones had long been more than just his sergeant, he’d become John’s closest friend and confidant, after herself of course. She smiled sadly, remembering how John had pined for months after Ben left for Brighton. Charlie Nelson had been an excellent protege and colleague, eventually becoming a good friend. Jamie Winter showed every sign of doing the same, but nothing was quite like the partnership John had with Ben. Surprising in a way, given how they didn’t get on at first. Sarah tilted her head, considering the two men in her mind’s eye. They do say opposites attract…

“Sarah?”

Turning at the sound of her name, she grinned to see Kam making her way through the crowd. The young woman waved with one hand while the other held a folding chair aloft in an attempt to avoid smacking other fans in the head with it. “Kam? What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.” Kam put her chair down beside Sarah’s and sunk gratefully into it. “It’s been a long few days, I could use a break.”

Is that all, Sarah wondered, glancing at her friend. She’d never known Kam to leave work in the middle of a case. “I didn’t know you liked cricket.”

Kam shrugged noncommittally. “This is supposed to be faster right?”

“Much.”

“And there’s a player who’s supposed to be pretty good. What was his name?” She paused. “Jack Morris, I think?”

“Hmmmm.” Sarah turned to fuss with her purse to cover her surprise. Curiouser and curiouser. “I’ve heard the name, although I don’t remember seeing him play in the last match.” 

“I hear he’s not bad looking either,” Kam confessed with an embarrassed laugh. 

“Ah.” Sarah smiled at her, relaxing a bit. “Well, we’ll be the judges of that, won’t we?”

Kam returned her grin. They both jumped slightly as horns blared and pyrotechnics flared around the grounds, announcing the beginning of the C-10 semifinals.


	7. Another Murder

Ben paced the grounds outside Germaine’s house. “Come on, come on! Where are you when I actually need you?” 

The call connected and DCI Ford’s distinctive voice yawned in his ear. “Do you have any idea what time it is, Jones?”

“Fitz is dead,” he hissed back.

“What?”

“Word’s gotten ‘round the village that Fitz Theara was murdered last night,” he replied urgently. “The same Fitz Theara who tried to recruit me into the match fixing racket earlier in the evening.” 

“What did you tell him?”

Ben groaned. “It’s in my report.”

“Summarize.”

“I turned him down, as agreed. I was going to go ‘round and tell him I’d had a change of heart this morning-“

“Too late for that now.”

Ben frowned, irritated at her casual tone. “Quite.”

“So, have you changed your opinion about the murders being connect to your case?”

He looked around and lowered his voice. “It has crossed my mind that Fitz _may_ have been killed because I turned him down, yes.” 

“Well, that puts a different complexion on things.” She was silent a long time. As he waited, Ben struggled against mounting anxiety, forcing himself to breathe calmly in through his nose and out through his mouth. If Ford insisted on secrecy, he feared the situation could get even worse. Ben could have a very difficult choice to make. “Fine,” she said at last, “collaborate with Barnaby and his people. Get to the bottom of this quickly before we end up with more bodies.”

He smiled, relieved. “Yes ma’am.”

“And Jones?”

“Ma’am?”

“Be careful.”

“Oh, so you do care…ma’am.”

She chuckled. “Training new DIs eats up a lot of my time and I’ve invest too much of that in you already, Jones. Besides,” she added with a sniff, “I’d never hear the end of it from Barnaby. Both of them, come to think of it.”

Ben’s grin widened. “Probably not. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank me by closing the case.” With a click, the call disconnected.


	8. Secrets Revealed

The phone rang, interrupting their conversation, so Jamie focused his attention on the situation board while Barnaby stepped away to answer it. “Oh he is?” Jamie heard the amusement in his boss’s voice. “Thank you.” Hanging up the phone, Barnaby announced more loudly for Winter’s benefit, “Look smart, we have a guest.” 

Jamie turned in time to see Jack Morris striding through the CID offices like if he knew them by heart. The man ignored Winter completely, heading straight for the DCI instead. Morris held out his hands in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry, but I’m gonna need your help.” 

“Will you indeed.” John Barnaby bounced on the balls of his feet, a smug, satisfied look on his face. “Perhaps we should take this conversation to an interview room?” Jamie started to lead the way, but Morris pushed passed him with a nod, clearly not needing further guidance. Winter shot Barnaby a questioning look, but his superior only smiled. “I suspect all your questions are about to be answered. Come along, Winter.” 

When they reached the room, Jamie closed the door behind them and took his place by Barnaby’s side and across from Morris. Without preamble, Jack said, “My bosses have sanctioned that I work openly with you from now on.”

“What bosses?”

Barnaby glanced at Jamie. “I couldn’t tell you before, but Jones,” he gestured at Morris, “was once…you.” 

Morris held out a hand to Winter. “DI Ben Jones.”

Jamie stared at him for a moment as his words sunk in. Glancing at Barnaby for confirmation, he frowned in disgruntled frustration, but took the other man’s hand and gave it a quick shake. Finally things were starting to make sense - Morris’s ease at the crime scenes, Barnaby’s unwillingness to consider him a suspect, and that moment when Barnaby had called Jamie by the name ‘Jones.’ If he’d known more about his DCI’s past, that slip-up would have tipped him off.

“I’ve been working undercover in a large scale match fixing ring,” Jones continued. “We believe it originated in Australia with the start of C-10 over there. But now it’s popping up all over the country and for match fixes, it’s ideal. The amateur game files under the usual watch dog radars.” 

“I had you down as a suspect,” Jamie admitted, still eyeing him warily.

“Well, if it helps any,” Jones nodded in an easygoing manner and moved toward the lone table, “I would have had myself down as one.” 

Gee, thanks for that, Jamie thought, rolling his eyes. Barnaby had already chosen to sit down on one side of the table, so Winter pulled out the chair beside him and did the same.

\-- --

Jamie found the information about Germaine Troughton’s role establishing Jones’s cover, his suspicions about Leo and Fitz’s deaths, and the details of how the match fixing worked fascinating. They were all three sitting at the table now. Jamie watched Barnaby and Jones interact, noted their easy banter and camaraderie, and wondered why he hadn’t spotted it sooner. Because I never had a chance to, he thought, answering his own question. Every time they ran into Jones while they were together, Barnaby gave Jamie tasks to do elsewhere or Jones made excuses and a quick exit. Jamie wondered if some of Barnaby’s recent mysterious solo investigations were actual meetings with Jones. He was still annoyed at being lied to, even if he understood the reasons. Still, it made him feel better that he hadn’t missed anything obvious. Jones, for his part, didn’t seem quite as objectionable as Winter had first thought, although it was early days there.

Barnaby sighed, bringing Jamie’s focus back to the here and now. “We need to know exactly how these bets are being laid.”

“If it’s illegal it could be on the dark web,” Winter suggested.

Jones leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, considering. No one said anything for a moment.

At last, Barnaby fixed his former sergeant with a firm gaze. “If Leo and Fitz were murdered by match fixers then I’m afraid we have to hope that you get approached again, Jones.”

Jones nodded wearily. “Agreed.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

Jones smirked at Winter, eyes twinkling. “Worried about my safety now? I’m touched.”

Jamie was about to counter with a snarky retort when Barnaby interrupted. “Can we focus on the case, gentlemen? Time is rather pressing.” Both Winter and Jones ducked their heads slightly, like naughty children being called out by a teacher. “Good,” Barnaby glanced between them, a hint of a smile taking some of the chill off his previous comment. “Is there anything else we need to know,” he asked Jones.

“It may not have any bearing on anything, but Serena Luthando tried to warn me off rather dramatically.”

“How?”

“She used the bowling machine to fire a few balls at my head at high speed while I was practicing pre-match.”

Barnaby frowned. “Just like Leo’s death.”

“Only I was able to avoid them before they did any damage.” 

“Why was she warning you off?”

Jones shifted slightly in his chair before answering Winter's question. “She thought I was trying to take advantage of Melody Henderson after the death of her husband.” 

She wasn’t the only one, Jamie thought, raising his eyebrows but choosing to remain silent.

Jones caught his expression and interpreted it accurately. “Nothing happened.” He looked at both of them in turn. “Really. This is not my first time undercover,” Jones focused on Barnaby with a nod, “as you well know.”

“If I recall correctly, and I almost always do, a woman fell for you then too.” Barnaby tsked. “So you certainly do have experience in this area.” 

This time it was Jamie who brought them back to the matter at hand. “But if she was just warning you off, although admittedly a bit overzealously, is it likely she’s connected to the deaths or the match fixing for that matter?” 

“As I said, it might be nothing-“

“Only time will tell,” Barnaby replied, ending the conversation.


	9. A Day of Surprises

Ben was in the middle of a late morning jog when Butler Styles stepped into his path, forcing him to come to a quick stop. 

“You got a moment?”

Jones finished pulling his earphones from his ears. “Looks like I have now.”

Styles looked over his shoulder, but the park paths were fairly empty at this time of day. “You were talking to Fitz yesterday.”

“Poor guy, terrible business.”

“Tragic,” Styles said, although his tone implied the opposite, “but I was wondering, did he…say anything to you?”

“Yeah.” Ben leaned over to stretch out his calf muscles. “‘Well played.’” 

Styles smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “You’re a funny guy.”

“Tell you what,” Ben straightened, “why don’t you tell me what you think he said.”

“That you,” Styles looked around again, “could be a valuable commodity.”

Ben shook his head. “I’m not that guy.”

“Everyone’s that guy for the right price.” Styles gave him a once over. “Look at you. No job, you shacked up with that old girl. What is it? You get made redundant, did your wife leave you?”

Ben managed to keep a straight face, despite his surprise. Was that what the village gossip was saying about him? He supposed it could’ve been worse. They could’ve guessed the truth. 

“Leo,” Styles stepped closer and tapped Ben’s chest with a smirk, “was barely cold and you were straight run to Melody’s. That’s a desperate man.” 

Jones made an educated guess. “So it was you at her house?”

“I was just looking for what was mine. I paid Leo a lot of money to get himself out early, but he just couldn’t resist a shot of glory.” 

“What if I’m made of the same stuff?”

“Don’t be a fool, Jack. Everyone wants a better life.” Styles stepped closer and grinned conspiratorially. “Especially someone like you.”

Jones leaned away, trying to put more space between them. Styles simply nodded for Ben to continue on his way. He did so, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched so he cut the run short. He returned to Germaine’s for a shower before heading to the local pub. He hoped Styles or someone else involved with the match fixing would contact him if he made himself available, but other than a few brief and innocuous conversations with Wade McMaster and other members of the Lower Pampling Panthers, it was a quiet afternoon. At least it gave him time to think. 

There was no way a weasel like Butler Styles had the chops to pull off something this big, Ben decided. There had to be someone else behind it all, someone pulling everyone’s strings from the shadows. Getting evidence on Styles was good, but if the mastermind escaped the whole setup would just move elsewhere and begin again. And if that happened, all his efforts and the deaths of two men would have been for nothing. 

Jones went back to Germaine’s house to help her with supper and the two spent a companionable meal talking about cricket and the C-10 referendum. They were almost finished when there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Ben offered. Standing up, he patted her shoulder as he walked in the direction of the hall. He almost expected to see Barnaby or Winter waiting outside, but when he opened the large double doors he found no one there. Instead a black satchel, just like the one he’d found hidden in Leo’s office, sat on the doorstep. 

“Who is it,” Germaine called from the dining room. 

“Oh, it’s some prankster,” he yelled back. Ben leaned out to see if anyone was lurking around, waiting to see his reaction, but both the garden and drive appeared empty. Opening the pouch, he found stacks of money inside. It was a good sign for the case, but Ben was irritated that these people, whoever they were, thought he was that easily won over. Maybe he should push back a bit, see what shook loose. 

He retreated inside and, after giving the grounds one last look around, closed the doors.

— —

He and Germaine had just finished the washing up when Ben’s cell phone rang. “Hello,” he said, stepping away to answer it. 

“Jack?”

“Mel?” Ben caught Germaine looking over her shoulder at him, a smirk on her lips. He walked further away to what he hoped was out of earshot. “Everything alright? You sound shaken up.”

“Could you come over? Just for a moment.”

“Of course, anything you need. I’ll grab my coat and be there in a few minutes.” Once he’d hung up, he ducked back into the kitchen. “I’m heading out, Germaine.”

“So I gathered” she replied smugly. 

“Why does everyone think there’s something going on between me and Melody,” he huffed in exasperation. “We are just friends.”

Germaine raised her eyebrows at him and turned away with a disbelieving hum. 

“Fine. Think whatever you like.”

“Do call if you plan to spend the night with Mrs. Henderson.” Ben paused, catching the sad smile on Germaine’s face. “There’s already been two deaths in the village. Wouldn’t want to worry about you joining them.” 

Ben nodded, surprised by her concern. “If you like.”

— —

“It was on my doorstep.”

Ben's fingers ghosted over the wreath, its single red rose standing out like a blood stain against the circle of white roses and greenery. He tilted his head. “Okay…this is a bit odd.”

Melody shivered. “It’s creepy.” 

“Was there a note?”

“No.” 

“Did you see anyone-“

“No one.” She watched him examine the wreath, then seemed to come to a decision. “I was going to call you last night.” When he turned, Melody smiled apologetically. “I know Serena warned you off.” 

“Well, she’ll have to try harder than that.” Nodding at the wreath, he asked, “Any idea who might have left you this?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?”

“I mean, no,” she amended with a blush. “I’m not sure I want to find out either.” 

She was lying, obviously. Ben’s instinct was to follow up with more questions, but he let the feeling pass. This wasn’t what he was meant to be investigating. Still, there was a remote possibility it was connected. “Look, I’ll call the police-“

“Do you have to,” she interrupted quietly. 

“You don’t want to report it,” he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise this time. 

She gestured vaguely and gave an embarrassed laugh. “If you don’t mind.”

Interesting. Ben glanced back at the wreath and shrugged. “Want me to get rid of it then?”

“That would be wonderful.” She walked over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I knew you’d take care of everything.” Her hands lingered on his arm and shoulder.

Okay, Ben admitted to himself, maybe everyone else was right and Melody did fancy him. Or maybe she wanted him to think she did. Whatever the case, he needed to leave. “My pleasure,” he said, disentangling himself and picking up the wreath. “I’ve got to get to some practicing in anyway so…I’ll just throw it away there. See you tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Can’t wait.”

Yeah, he really needed to go. With a look he hoped was more friendly farewell than panicked retreat, Ben made good his escape.


	10. “When shall we three meet again?”

“So where is he?”

“Patience, Winter.”

“I was patient ten minutes ago when we arrived.”

John stared up at the sky, admiring the clouds and the gentle breeze on his skin. “And is that what passes for ‘waiting patiently’ among young people theses days? If so, I look forward to a time when we have to take part in a stakeout. You won’t last a day.”

“That’s different,” Winter protested, “there’s a point to that.”

“And there’s a point to this.” He glanced at his sergeant who was standing on the other side of the car, kicking pebbles. “Jones is undercover. He can’t always get away when he wants to. Things come up.”

“Aren’t you worried?” Jamie folded his arms against the roof of the car and leaned on them. “Two people are already dead and now our inside man is late.”

“Ten minutes is an unexpected visitor or a new bit of information delaying him. An hour late?” Barnaby scanned the horizon. “Then I’ll worry.”

There was silence for a few minutes, but John could almost feel the nervous energy coming off Winter in waves. “So,” Jamie said at last, no longer able to tolerate the lack of conversation, “how long did he work for you?”

“A few years.” 

“Three years? Five years?”

John huffed an irritated sigh and looked back at Winter. “A bit more than three.”

Jamie nodded. “How was he to work with?” 

“Are you interrogating me, DS Winter?”

“No sir,” he held up his hands in a show of surrender, “I’m just trying to get a sense of the man we’re working with. You know, for the case.”

“For the case? Not your idle curiosity?” 

“No sir.” Winter looked the picture of wide-eyed innocence, which made John suspect he was lying, or at least partially lying. Still, if it would help keep him occupied...

John leaned against the car and stared past Winter to the road from Lower Pampling. This clearing was the same place he’d brought Jones the first time they’d met during the case. The fields were still peaceful and the forests were dark and quiet. Ben was right, it made a nice change from the interview rooms at the station. “Jones was a fine sergeant. Clever. Intuitive. Diligent, sometimes to the point of stubbornness, which got him in trouble a few times but was also key to cracking quite a few cases. Never one to shy away from a fight, actual or metaphorical. A bit cynical at times and surprisingly naive at others, especially given all his experiences on the job.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, he was my cousin Tom Barnaby’s sergeant for years. When Tom retired and I moved to Midsomer, I...," he paused, continuing at last with a laugh, "...inherited Jones, as it were. Before that he was a PC.” 

“Wow, he must be older than I thought.”

John chuckled. “I think he started young. He grew up in Midsomer. Knows everyone and all the gossip.”

“Really?” Winter scrunched up his face. “I'm surprised they opted to put him back here undercover. Isn’t he likely to be recognized by someone?”

Barnaby had wondered the same thing, but he kept that to himself. 

“Did you two get on?” 

“Not at first.” John folded his arms over his chest. “Tom and I have very different approaches to police work. It took Jones some time to adjust to the change and for me to get used to him, but by the time Jones passed his Inspectors our partnership was a well-oiled machine.” 

“Something to look forward to, I guess,” Jamie muttered so quietly John almost missed it.

But there was no time to follow-up on the comment, a convertible was approaching down the road from Lower Pampling. “Speak of the devil,” Barnaby remarked, ambling over to stand beside Winter as Ben Jones pulled alongside them. 

Jones started speaking before he’d even come to a complete stop. “Butler Styles approached me then left me this.” He stepped out of his car, closing the door with one hand while tossing a black bag to Jamie with the other. The sergeant caught the bag effortlessly. “15K upfront and another 15 after I do what they want.”

“They,” Barnaby asked.

“Butler can’t be the brains behind this. He’s the gopher, middle man.” Jones turned to look over his shoulder at the road and the fields beyond. 

John took in the movement along with the breathless way Jones spoke. He’s nervous, Barnaby thought, far more on edge than he’d been at the station. “All the same, we’ll look into him. Now who else are we looking at?”

“Well that’s the next step,” Ben replied a little defensively. 

“These people are dangerous, Jones.” 

John raised an eyebrow at Winter. It was a self-apparent and somewhat needless observation. Then again, perhaps Jones could stand the reminder. 

Ben shook his head. “I’m too close to walk away now.” 

Winter eyed his predecessor. “Then at least do us a favor.”

“What?”

“Don’t whatever you do become captain. The last two didn’t have a lot of luck.”

Ben smiled wryly. “I’ll bear that in mind. Oh by the way,” he returned to his car and pulled out something covered in hessian, “someone left this for Melody last night.” He handed it to Winter. “Might be significant.” 

Jamie held the object while John folded back the covering to reveal a wreath of white roses and a single red rose. He exchanged a look with Winter and saw the same recognition in his sergeant’s eyes.

While Jamie put the wreath in their car, John watched Jones get back into his and start the engine. Barnaby hadn’t been completely honest with Winter earlier, he was worried. A familiar anxiety was settling into the pit of his stomach. “Jones,” he called, stepping forward. The name hung in the air and John found himself at a loss for what to say next. 

_Be careful?_ He knew Jones would be as careful as he could be given the inherent risks of undercover work. 

_Stay safe?_ That was beyond anyone’s power to guarantee, particularly in this job.

 _Good luck?_ He wasn’t sure he believed in it.

 _Please don’t go getting yourself killed because I couldn’t bear it?_ Too sentimental, too personal, for all that it was true.

Ben searched his face and seemed to read his thoughts. “I know sir,” he said simply. With a quick nod and smile, he drove away. 

John smiled sadly as he watched the car head back the way it had come. 

“I see what you mean, sir,” Winter remarked. 

“Hmmm?”

“Diligent to the point of stubbornness.”

John chuckled. “Indeed.”


	11. Mastermind

The sun had already set when Ben’s phone chimed. He picked it up and saw a text message from Butler Styles.

_“Be in front of the stumps in a hour. Don’t be late.”_

He pocketed the phone with a satisfied nod. This could be it, the chance to finally learn the identity of the match-fixer-in-chief. Or, he conceded, it could be a setup to get rid of him, just like Leo and Fitz. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he whispered to himself, grabbing his coat. Germaine was already in her room, so no need to bother her. He considered calling Barnaby but worried he’d insist on sending backup, which could ruin the whole thing. 

Jones headed out immediately on the idea that, although he’d been warned about being late, no one had said anything about being early. It gave him time to look around and maybe get the jump on any ambush.

It turned out to not matter. Ben searched the whole facility but found nothing unexpected. As the hour neared its end, he walked across the grounds to the appointed meeting place. Suddenly the lights turned on, one after the other, illuminating the area around him. The large screen which normally displayed the score lit up as well, but instead of the usual graphics it only showed a blinking computer cursor. 

Slowly, words began to appear on the screen

_“Hello Jack.”_

Ben stepped back involuntarily and stared. “What the-“

More words appeared. 

_“Are you on board?”_

_“Are you Jack?”_

Jones turned to look behind him, but there were no signs of another person. “You know the deal,” he yelled.

_“You’re playing hard to get.”_

“Well, put it down to the not uncommon fear of being killed.”

Static hissed through the speakers and the text was replaced by an image of the back of Ben’s legs, the grounds in front of him, and the screen itself. Glancing behind him and then back at the screen, Jones realized it was a live feed. He knelt down to examine the stumps and was barely able to spot the small camera hidden within. 

The image faded to black and new words appeared. 

_“Funny guy Jack.”_

Ben stood up. “Yeah, I’m laughing so hard right now.”

_“Are you in?”_

“Let’s do this face to face.” 

_“Aw Jack, you’re so demanding.”_

The words stopped. Ben shifted warily as he stared at the blinking cursor. A shape separated from the darkness behind the screen and crossed in front of it. Someone was walking towards him.

Jones squinted, trying to make out who it was. “Wade,” he said at last, his voice thick with confusion.

Wade McMaster continued walking until he was standing close to Ben, well within his personal space. “You got two choices Jack. One, you fix the match. Or two, I fix you.” 

Ben met the threat stoically, but didn’t try to argue.

“Don’t screw it up,” Wade paused, “…captain.”

Jones raised his eyebrows. “Captain?” 

“I’ll throw that in with the deal.” Wade held out his hand and waited. 

Ben looked down at Wade’s hand and then up to his face. Slowly, he clasped the other man's hand with his own. The screen hummed and Ben glanced past Wade to see the words _“Captain Jack”_ appear again and again. It was almost comical, but also very creepy. He met Wade’s eyes again and shook his hand. 

“Good call.” Wade let go and stepped aside. “Come with me. We need to discuss the details of what’s expected.”

— —

Ben waited until he was locked safely in his own room before he called Barnaby. “It’s Wade.”

“McMaster? Are you sure?”

“Yes. I leaned on Butler until he agreed to set up a meeting with the boss.” 

Barnaby sucked in a breath. “That was risky, Jones.” 

“But it paid off. After a bit of melodrama, Wade showed up. He had a list of orders for me and followed it up with some not so veiled threats.”

“Do we need to pull you out of there?”

“No, I’m safe and sound back at Germaine’s house. Besides, Wade and I parted on good terms. He thinks he’s hooked me.” Jones grinned. “Offered me the captaincy and everything.”

“Winter will be so pleased,” John replied sarcastically. “But are you certain McMaster is our man?”

Ben nodded. “He laid the whole thing out. Wade’s the brains, Butler Styles does his legwork and serves as the face of the operation when there’s a need. We’ve got them both dead to rights, they just need picking up.”

“Winter and I will handle that tomorrow. There’s a few more loose ends to tie up between now and then, so until you get the all clear from me just pretend like nothing has changed.”

“Will do.”

“But I want to know the instant you see anything out of the ordinary. Even if it’s nothing you can prove, an instinct, whatever - contact me and I’ll send back-up.“

“Understood sir.”

“I mean it, Jones,” John said sternly. “You’ve cracked the case, no need for any more heroics.”

“Relax sir, I’m not planning to fall on my sword anytime soon.”

Relief was clear in Barnaby’s voice. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Jones.”


	12. Across the Line

Ben was on his way into the cricket facility when the call came in. Stepping away from the building a discrete distance, he answered. “Is it done?”

“We’ve got Styles, but haven’t found McMaster yet.” John’s voice was slightly breathless, he was clearly on the move. “He may be making a run for it, so you need to watch your back.”

“But you want me to go ahead and play?”

“Yes, there’s every chance he may not have figured out you tipped us off.”

Jones made a face. “He’d have to be pretty thick not to.”

“Still, stick to the plan. Stay in sight of other people, Winter and I are on our way to you now.”

“Right. See you soon.” Ben hung up and hurried to the Panther’s changing room. He’d begun unpacking his kit when something hard struct the back of his head and everything went dark. 

— —

When he awoke, he had a splinting headache. 

Ben was hanging by his wrists which were tied to a piece of heavy machinery. Faint cheering in the distance meant he couldn’t be too far from the cricket pitch, but otherwise he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Jones struggled to his feet, but found the small space didn’t allow him to straighten up completely. He tried pulling free, but the ropes around his wrists offered no give. 

There was movement to his left. Squinting, Ben made out a hunched figure in a white referee’s uniform. “Hello? Wade? Is that you?” The figure chuckled, but kept their back to him. “Listen, I’m sure we can sort this out if you just let me go.”

“That won’t be happening I’m afraid.”

At first he thought he’d misheard, but then the figure in white turned around. “Germaine,” Ben asked, shocked. “What’s going on?”

She looked at him sadly, but turned away again without saying another word. 

With a growing sense of alarm and confusion, Ben struggled against his bonds without result. “Hey,” he yelled, “I don’t understand.” 

A phone rang. Ben spotted his cell phone lying on the floor near his feet, the caller ID displaying the name “Barnaby.” Jones looked up in time to see Germaine approaching with a cricket bat in her hand. “What have I ever done to you,” he asked, screwing up his eyes and preparing himself for the blows to fall. Instead he heard the crack of something breaking, then silence. Germaine had smashed his phone. 

Relieved, Ben looked at the woman he’d thought of as a friend. “You’re going to regret this, I promise you. But it’s not too late to stop, Germaine.”

“You’re wrong.” She switched her grip on the bat. “It’s been far too late for some time now.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this. We’ve caught half the match fixing ring. I was just waiting on confirmation that the others were in custody.” 

She shook her head. “This has nothing to do with that, as you well know.”

“I really don’t.” He was stalling now. John Barnaby would start searching for him when he didn’t answer his phone, he just needed to buy him more time. “Did I not help out enough around the house? Leave my jacket on the floor one too many times?”

Germaine lifted the bat. “You are mocking me.”

Ben stepped back as much as the ropes would allow. “I’m really not. I just…don’t understand what’s going on. Maybe it’s the knock on the head or maybe I’m just really stupid, but I don’t get it. And I hate the idea of dying without any clue as to why.” He looked at her. “Because that’s what you’re planning to do, right? Kill me?”

“No choice about that.”

“You have every choice in the world, Germaine.” He sighed. “Did you kill the others too? Leo? Fitz?” 

She studied him. “You’re stalling. Hoping if you keep me talking long enough someone will find you. But I’m not some kind of storybook villain here to tell you how clever I’ve been.” Looking away, she shook her head. “Because I’ve not been clever. I’ve made so, so many mistakes.” Germaine straightened, her eyes filling with determination. “But if it’s a choice between your life or ours,” she raised the bat once again, ready to swing, “it’s an easy decision to make.”

“Just so you know,” Ben grinned a little manically, trying to needle her into arguing further, “your grip’s all wrong.” 

“One more inning...Germaine?” 

Ben shivered with relief as he recognized the voice. Looking past Germaine, he watched John Barnaby strolling calmly into view.


	13. Missing Pieces

John arrived at the cricket grounds in good time with Winter in tow. “Any word on McMaster?”

“No sir, but Kia agreed to work with us. I thought maybe we could get her to flush her uncle out.”

“Good plan, Winter. Set it in motion.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Spotting Sarah and Kam watching the match, John led the way to them.

“Oh,” Sarah exclaimed, pleased to see them, “you’ve come to watch the final?”

“This is a work visit I’m afraid.” John leaned toward Patty who was laying on the grass at Sarah’s feet. “I knew you were a modernist.” 

“We noticed Ben isn’t playing,” Sarah continued with a grin at Kam.

“Isn’t he?” John frowned, searching the pitch for the familiar face and not finding him. “His car’s here.” The implications of those two facts hit him like a physical blow. Glancing at Winter, they both wordlessly retraced their steps. 

“I’ll check the changing rooms,” Winter said, rushing away immediately once they were inside. 

“I’ve got the offices. Call me if you find anything.” Pulling out his phone, John dialed Jones’s number and searched each room he came across. The ball of anxiety in his gut grew steadily as every office, conference room, and supply closet turned out to be empty. The call rang out before finally going to voicemail. “I should have ordered him to come in the minute we started the arrests,” John muttered bitterly, “sat him at the station for however long it took, somewhere I could’ve kept my eyes on him.”

Winter caught up with him in the parking lot by Jones’s car. “His kit and bag are still in the changing room, sir, but no Jones.”

Even though he suspected it was pointless, John tried calling Ben again. This time it went straight to voicemail. “No answer.” He dialed a new number. “I need a last known triangulation on the phone number I’m about to send you.” As he began texting the number, Jamie’s phone chimed.

Winter checked the message. “We’re on, sir.” 

It took Barnaby a moment to realize he was talking about McMaster and Kia. He glanced at Jamie. “You better go.”

With a nod, Winter hurried away. 

John finished typing in Ben’s phone number. “Got that? Good. I need the results ASAP.” Hanging up, he tried to think of where Jones might be. Where was close enough, yet private enough for a murderer to have taken him? Both previous crime scenes came unbidden to his mind’s eye, but with Jones as the victim laying dead. Chest tightening, Barnaby shook his head to clear his thoughts. Such imaginings were unhelpful, wasting time he should be spending finding a solution. Work the case. Think!

Turning on the spot, his eyes fell on St John Beachwood and Cilla Troughton who were walking toward the pitch. “Singen,” John called out and the two stopped, waiting for him to approach. “There’s something that’s been worrying me. Why now? Why decide to track Cilla down now after all these years? What happened?”

Beachwood’s expression fell. He turned to Cilla. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“Should have told me what,” she asked warily. 

“Your son…” he paused, collecting himself, “…he called you mother a few months ago. It’s how she found out you had a child.”

“She knew?” Cilla gaped at him. “But I thought-“

“When she told me about him, I immediately started searching for you, but your mother-” Beachwood sighed. “She’s a proud woman. Strong. Iron through and through.”

“Hard,” Cilla countered. “Cold.”

“No, now there you’re wrong. Germaine has a fiery spirit, she just had an easier time expressing it on the cricket pitch than in her personal life.” He took Cilla’s hand. “She may not show it, but she loves you. She was deeply hurt when she found out about your child. Not by his existence,” he added, forestalling her complaints, “but because she couldn’t tell him anything about you.” 

“He asked about me?” Her voice trembled. “What did he say?” 

The pieces finally fell in place. The child was Cilla’s, as Barnaby and Winter had guessed, but Germaine had known about him much earlier. John had assumed the child’s existence only became common knowledge once Cilla had returned. If Germaine had known for months, that could present an alternative motive for Leo’s death. 

He remembered Ben’s words from the night before: “I’m safe and sound back at Germaine’s house.” In fact he’d been anything but safe, he just hadn’t known it.

“Where’s Germaine now,” he demanded urgently. 

“Isn’t she here?” Beachwood frowned. “I offered to give her a lift but she said she had errands to run before the match.”

I bet she did, John thought furiously. His phone rang and he excused himself to answer it. 

“Sir, the phone you asked us to triangulate was last used at an outbuilding close to the cricket grounds.” 

“Send me the coordinates.” Seconds later he had a text with a map reference, which he quickly entered into a map app. “Got you,” he whispered, setting off at a run, dialing Winter’s number as he went. 

“Sir, we’ve got McMaster, but-”

“Winter,” Barnaby interrupted, “I’ve got the triangulation back. I know where Jones is. I’ll send you the location. Bring backup,” he paused, “and find Cilla Troughton. We may need her to talk her mother down.”

“Germaine has Jones? But that would mean-“

“There’ll be time for explanations later. Just get here!” John slowed his pace as he neared the storage building. Carefully, he tried the door handle and was relieved to find it unlocked. As he stepped inside, the sounds of voices filled the air. His heart leapt when he recognized one of them.

“Just so you know, your grip’s all wrong.” 

Picking a fight while facing death was an unconventional tactic, but it was very Ben Jones. John could see him now, tied to a forklift loader. Germaine stood nearby, cricket bat raised and ready to strike.

“One more inning, Germaine?” John pitched his voice so it would carry throughout the room. The effect was instantaneous. 

Germaine lowered the bat as she turned to face him. Behind her, Jones heaved a noticeable sigh of relief. 

Keep her talking. Find out what you can. Wait for Winter and backup. John Barnaby smiled benignly at Germaine, ready to go to work.


	14. Rescue and Return

Catching Winter’s eyes, Barnaby nodded toward Jones and Jamie followed the unspoken orders instantly. 

“Thanks,” Ben muttered as Winter untied him. “I can’t wait to stand up straight.”

“I’m sure. You okay otherwise?”

“Yeah,” Ben stepped out and stretched before rubbing the back of his head, “although I’ll probably have a bump here for a while.”

“Good thing she wasn’t in her prime,” Winter commented dryly as they walked out of the building, “she could have killed you.”

Ben cut his eyes at Jamie. “I think that was the general idea.”

“You’re lucky it was your head.”

“Very amusing.” After a pause, he said, “Thanks for helping with Wade.”

Jamie nodded. “Any time.” 

They walked past Germaine, Barnaby, and the others and made their way toward the cricket grounds. Jones squinted at the score board. “Better hurry or it’ll all be over before I get there.”

“You’re not still thinking about playing?”

“Why not?”

Winter stared at him. “Someone just tried to kill you, for starters.”

“Story of my life.”

“For all we know you could have a concussion.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You were only on the team to expose the match fixers and that’s done now.”

“Exactly.” Jones patted Winter’s back. “Now I can focus on what’s really important.” With a cheeky grin, he headed downstairs to get changed. 

“Where is he going?”

Jamie turned to see Barnaby approaching. “To play cricket, apparently.”

Barnaby frowned. “I see.”

“‘Never one to shy away from a fight, actual or metaphorical,’ right sir?”

“Don’t make me regret telling you any of that, Winter.”

“No sir.” Jamie cleared his throat. “Germaine-“

“Is on her way to the station,” Barnaby walked past him, “which means you and I can take in the rest of the match.”

“But we still need to interview her…and the paperwork-“

“Will keep until morning. Come along.”

Winter stared after Barnaby before finally running to catch up. 

— —

“Did you find Ben,” Sarah asked as soon as her husband and Jamie sat down nearby. Kam gave them both a brief nod, but kept her eyes on the match. 

“Yes, we did.”

“Was he okay?”

John hummed. “Eventually.”

Both Sarah and Kam turned at that. “What does ‘eventually’ mean in this context,” Sarah asked, eyes narrowed.

“The same thing it means in most others.” After a few moments of intense scrutiny, he caved. “Germaine was planning to kill him, but Winter and I got there in time to stop her. He walked out under his own power, with just a bit of a knock on the head.“

“Now entering for the Lower Pampling Panthers,” the announcer’s cheerfully blaring voice made all other conversation impossible, “Jack Morris!”

Sarah was horrified. “You let him continue?”

“I’m not sure I have much say about that,” John replied, “short of arresting him.”

“But he could be injured-“

“He looks fine to me,” Kam said with a grin.

Jamie got the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about Ben’s general health. Until then he’d been watching the conversation with amused detachment, now he sat forward, frowning. “Looks can be deceiving.” 

“Not in this case,” she singsonged back, further souring his mood. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she yelled, “Come on Jones!” 

“I didn’t think you cared much for cricket,” Jamie continued, hoping to change the subject. 

She shrugged, eyes still locked on Ben. “Never too late to pick up something new, is it?”

With a crack of bat on ball, the game resumed. Jamie folded his arms and slumped further in his chair as the crowd around him cheered. 

— —

“Not too shabby, Captain Jones,” Sarah called as she, Jamie, John, and Kam walked down the steps to congratulate Ben after the match. 

“Australia here you come,” teased her husband, who stopped clapping long enough to pat Jones on the back.

“Australia,” Kam asked worriedly.

“Oh,” Ben shook his head, “I doubt that.”

“Well done, Jones!” Talking excitedly among themselves, John and Sarah pulled Ben to the side, leaving Kam and Jamie a little behind. 

“You’re being subtle,” he commented wryly. 

“Oh, I’m out of practice.” She gave him a significant look. “I’m not used to being single.”

“Single,” he asked with suddenly renewed optimism. “You finished with what’s his name? You never said.”

She leaned in. “You never asked.”

He started to reply, but Ben Jones picked that moment to walk by. “Should we get the beers in?”

Jamie looked from him to her, before nodding. “Sure.” He followed Jones reluctantly, barely able to drag his eyes away from Kam.

— —

“Sarah and John will want wine,” Ben mused as they waited in line, “it’ll be beer for me. You? My treat.”

“Thanks, yes beer.”

“Good.” He gave Winter a knowing smile. “What about her,” he nodded toward Kam, “d’you know what she prefers?”

“Oh Kam? Wine likely, but we should ask before assuming.”

“Always a good policy.” His grin widened. “So when are you asking her out?” Winter stared at him and Ben laughed. “Oh come on, it’s obvious you fancy her…and from the looks of you two talking just now she feels the same.”

“It’s…complicated. We kind of had a thing while taking a crime management course a while ago. It’s made everything a little awkward.”

“Ah,” he nodded sympathetically, “that can happen with office romances.”

“Have you ever been in one? An office romance?”

“Not…exactly, but I came pretty close a few times.”

“Lucky you,” Jamie said dryly.

“Not that lucky, I’m still single.” The people in front of them moved and he stepped forward to place their order. A few minutes later, Ben handed Jamie a beer. “So, how you finding him?” Jamie groaned and rolled his eyes, making Ben chuckle in sympathy. “Does he still stand there and do that weird squinting when he’s thinking?” 

“Ah yeah, loads. I thought he was shortsighted at first.”

“Never calls you by your first name.” 

“I don’t think he knows what it is.”

“And you never know what he’s thinking.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, warming up to the topic, “we’re not mind readers.”

Ben laughed, but before he could reply John Barnaby joined them. “Thank you,” he said, picking up both of the wine glasses. “Ben,” he nodded to Jones, “and um-“ He paused, squinting into the distance as if he’d forgotten something.

“Jamie, sir,” Winter replied, slightly crestfallen. 

“Jamie, yes,” Barnaby said with a grin as he walked away. 

Laughing, Ben shook his head and held up his beer. “Cheers.”

Winter returned the gesture. “Cheers.”

Kam approached carrying Betty. “Awww,” Ben cooed, putting down his drink. “Mind if I hold her?”

“Of course not!” She handed the child to him. “Do you like children, Jones?”

Winter rolled his eyes, but Ben just laughed. “It's Ben. And I do, especially this one.” He twirled in place and Betty laughed in delight. “She’s my favorite goddaughter, aren’t you Betty?”

“Goddaughter?” Kam looked as surprised as Jamie felt. “Sarah and John never said-”

“Well, how often does something like that come up in conversation?” He turned his attention back to Kam. “What would you like? I’m buying.”

“Oh!” She gave him her brightest, widest smile. “Wine, please.”

Eyes twinkling, Ben glanced at Jamie before placing the order. “If you’ll excuse me a second, I need to make a call.” Balancing Betty on his hip, he patted his pocket. “Oh yeah, I forgot…Germaine broke it.”

“Here,” Winter handed him his phone, “use mine.”

“Cheers.” Jones smiled at both of them. “Be back in a moment.” He walked out of the building bouncing a giggling Betty while dialing one-handed.

Jamie and Kam found themselves alone in a crowd again. “Nice guy,” Jamie remarked before mentally kicking himself. The last thing he wanted to discuss with Kam was Ben Jones.

“Seems like it,” she said, eyes following him. “Has he said how long he’ll be around for?”

“No, but there’ll be paperwork he has to do before he can head home.”

“And where is that?”

“No idea.” He handed her glass to her. “So, when did you break up with what’s his name?”

She laughed, turning her attention to Jamie. “Mark. And we broke up a little while ago.”

“How little a while?”

“A few months.”

“Before I got here?” He leaned closer. “After I got here?”

“Before,” she said emphatically. “He came to visit and it…well, it didn’t go well.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Jamie sipped his beer in the smug fashion of a man who wasn’t sorry at all.

She smiled, bumping his shoulder with her own. “No, you aren’t.”

“Thanks for that,” Ben said, rejoining them. Both Jamie and Kam suddenly realized how close they were standing and stepped quickly apart. Ben chuckled and handed Jamie back his phone.

Kam brushed a hand through her hair. “Everything okay?

“Fine, just needed to call a friend, let her know the case was over.”

“Her?”

“Yeah,” Ben glanced at Jamie, “Kate Wilding. She used to be coroner here before she moved out to Brighton for a university job. She’s been looking after my place there while I’ve been gone.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow at Kam who just frowned at him. “Brighton. So that’s where you’re working now?”

“Yeah, didn’t I say?”

“Must have slipped your mind.” Jamie sipped his beer. “It’s not like we haven’t had a lot on.”

“Ben?” Sarah led her husband to join the others. “Is Betty bothering you?”

“No, she’s fine, although it is a bit hard to balance her and this.” He reached out for his drink.

“Here.” She took her daughter from him. “John and I were just talking and we’d like you to stay with us while you’re here.”

“That’s kind, but I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you-“

“Don’t be silly! It’ll give us time to catch up.” She nudged him. “Besides you owe me for missing lunch.”

“You might as well surrender now, Jones,” John nodded towards his wife, “it’s all already been decided.” 

Ben looked at John and the two shared a silent conversation born of many hours of working together. “Then how can I say no.”

“How indeed.”

“Good, it’s settled.” Smiling at John, Sarah looped her free arm through Ben’s and guided him back toward the pitch. Barnaby trailed after them. 

“That’s always the way,” Kam muttered, watching them go. “Nice, charming, handsome, smart, employed, and already in a relationship with someone else.” 

“To be fair, he called her a ‘friend.’”

“Oh please, you could practically hear the air quotes when he talked about her.” 

“Oh well,” Jamie said lightly, “better luck next time. Besides, it’s not like he was going to stick around and you’ve already tried the long distance relationship thing. Maybe you should look closer to home?” 

“Really?” She leaned in to whisper, “Have anyone in mind?” Laughing, she followed the others. Jamie followed after her with a hopeful grin on his face.


	15. Embracing Change

John was staring out the door to their back garden when he heard Sarah return from putting Betty to bed. “Are you going to tell me what’s being going on,” she said, slipping her arm around his waist and snuggling into his side. “And not just the highlights version, I want details.”

He slid his arm around her back. “Yes, once things are finalized.”

She followed his gaze to the three people talking quietly around their patio table. “Was Ben in much danger?”

John sighed. “I think Germaine would have killed him to protect herself and Cilla, but I don’t think she really wanted to. The other two murders were quick, efficient. Everything about her kidnapping of Jones was messy and drawn out. I think, in the end, she was glad someone stopped her.”

It wasn’t really an answer to her question but Sarah nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment. The sound of laughter brought both of their attentions back to their guests. “It’s good seeing the three of them getting along.”

John nodded, he’d been thinking the same thing. “Shame we won’t have many opportunities to enjoy it, unless I can convince Jones to come back to work here.”

“Oh John Barnaby,” Sarah laughed, “so much for embracing the future.”

He looked down at her. “What? Wouldn’t you want that too?”

“Of course, if that’s what he decides, but he has a life already in Brighton. What, are you going to find Kate a university job here too? Find a second DI position for Charlie when he’s done with his coursework? Staff the whole of Causton CID with your former proteges and friends?” She squeezed his waist briefly. “That’s not how it works. You have to let them go, John. If you can’t learn to do that with your sergeants, I can’t imagine how you’ll be when Betty grows up.”

“Perish the thought.” But he smiled and retuned the squeeze. 

— —

Jamie and Kam were just standing up when the Barnabys stepped outside. “You’re not going yet, surely,” Sarah asked. “It’s still early.”

“Sorry,” Winter said with a yawn, “it’s been a long day.”

“A long week,” Kam added. 

“Oh well, we’ll have to do this again sometime. Come on, I’ll walk you both out.”

“Night sir.” Jamie nodded to John before turning to wave at Ben. “It was good to meet you, Jones.”

“Likewise.” Ben smiled. “Call me if you ever need to,” he glanced at John before looking back at Jamie, “you know, blow off steam.”

John gave Ben a stern look, but Jamie just laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Does that offer go for all of us,” Kam asked. When Jamie cut his eyes at her, she gave him an innocent look. “What?”

They followed Sarah back into the house, leaving John and Ben alone in the garden. John took a seat across from his former sergeant and the two men sat in companionable silence for a while.

Jones spoke first. “You know what this reminded me of?”

“What?”

“Betty’s christening, when we all came back here afterwards. You, Sarah, and Betty, of course, and then me, Kate, and Charlie.” His smile turned wistful. “That was a really good day.”

“It was,” John agreed. “Do you miss it?”

“What?” 

“Living here?” 

“Sometimes.” Under John’s intense scrutiny, he admitted, “Okay, a lot. I miss the people - you and Sarah, in particular-”

“Good to hear.”

“-my grandmother and the rest of my family. Knowing all the stories and all the main players. Sometimes I even miss being a sergeant.” John glanced at him in surprise and Ben shrugged. “It was easier, in some ways, not having to be in charge all the time.”

John chuckled. “Ah well, that part only gets worse the higher up you move.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“But there are compensations.”

Ben acknowledged that with a nod. “Better pay for starters.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of having a greater say in how things are done.”

“That too. And turns out I enjoy mentoring the sergeants who’ve been assigned to me.” He grinned. “Who would’ve imagined?”

“I’m not surprised at all.”

“Mind you, some of them are so green. I don’t think I was ever that young.”

John smiled knowingly, but opted to keep silent. 

The two men sipped their drinks. Around them, the garden was full of the quiet sounds of early evening. Ben gave John a shy smile. “You know, Kate’s always saying moving to Brighton was the best thing that could ‘ve happened to me. She says I was too comfortable in my life before.” 

“Change can be good for growth, definitely.” 

“Exactly.” Ben kept his eyes on the grass in front of them. “I’m thinking of asking her to move in with me.”

John raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you two dating? When did that start? You’ve never said anything before. Neither has she, for that matter.”

Ben shrugged. “It’s complicated. We’ve been on again, off again since she moved to Brighton. It’s difficult finding time to spend together given our work schedules and neither of us having much free time. But she’s one of the best people I know and…she gets me, which is a rarer thing than you’d think.” 

“No,” John replied quietly, “I understand that completely.” 

“And these last few months I just kept thinking…how everything would’ve been better with her around.”

“You missed her.”

“More than I expected to.” 

“Have you talked with her about this?”

“About moving in together specifically?”

John rolled his eyes. “About how you feel about her.” 

“No, but this time undercover…it’s given me a chance to think. Figure out what I want.” 

“Then I suggest you call her soon. Find out if she feels the same.”

“Yeah, I should.” He eyed John. “What if she isn't interested?”

“What if she isn't? At least you’ll know and be able to move on with your life.”

“That simple huh?”

“Oh Ben,” John smiled, thinking about his earlier conversation with Sarah, “I never said it was simple.”


End file.
